Hannah Abbott Guthrie looked forward to the second Thursday of every month, when she met her high school friends in St. Johnsbury for lunch and an afternoon at their favorite spa. The tradition began after Hannah lost her husband, Caleb, in Iraq almost seven years ago. She’d continued to meet the girls every week long after the first awful wave of grief passed into the new reality of life without Caleb.

Like her family, her friends had been there for her one thousand percent, and Hannah loved her “escape from it all” days passionately. This time, she was even considering the possibility of taking her friend Becky up on the standing invite to spend the night in St. Johnsbury so she wouldn’t have to drive home after the relaxing afternoon.

Her brother Hunter had volunteered to come by when he got back to town to check on Caleb’s old dog, Homer, so he wouldn’t have to spend the whole day and night alone. Even with Homer covered, she was playing the invitation by ear. Since Caleb died, she had a lot of trouble sleeping, and if she was going to be up at all hours, she preferred to rattle around in the privacy of her own home.

Hannah picked up the overnight bag she’d packed just in case she decided to stay, gave Homer a snuggle and let him know Uncle Hunter would be by to see him later. She locked the door to the huge Victorian she’d inherited from Caleb. The house was far too big for one person, but Caleb had loved the house that had come from his grandmother, and Hannah would never sell it.

She unlocked her aging SUV and put her bag into the back before sliding into the driver’s seat. The day was chilly but sunny, an early spring day in northern Vermont, where winter hung around far longer than it did just a few hours south. In deference to the lingering winter, Hannah had chosen to wear a heavy coat rather than the new spring jacket she was ready to break out any day now.

With the key in the ignition, she turned it and got a clicking sound that didn’t bode well for going anywhere. “Come on,” she whispered. “Not today. Do this tomorrow when I’ve got nowhere to be.” She turned the key again and got the same click, click, click noise that she recognized as a dead battery. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”